


Therapy

by LadyBookwormWithTeeth



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV), Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ball Gags, Bondage, F/M, Femslash, Gags, Manipulation, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Riding Crops, S&M, Voyeurism, ropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 06:28:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,561
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4169439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyBookwormWithTeeth/pseuds/LadyBookwormWithTeeth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and Tink start couple’s therapy with Dr. Adler. She decides to solve their problems with ball gags, ropes, and orgasm denial. Yes, the plot is thin in this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Therapy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MaddieBonanaFana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MaddieBonanaFana/gifts).



> Maddie commissioned this story after I made her watch Sherlock. It is very AU, and it takes place after season 3A. Neal has found his happy ending with Tinker Bell, and they have just had twin baby girls.

This was the most unusual town. Very inconspicuous (which was just what she needed, no one would think to look for her in a small town in Maine), but very unusual nonetheless. She could see it the moment she arrived. People looked at her from the corner of their eyes, suspicious of the new resident. The Mayor had paid her a visit to try to gently kick her out. It only made her want to stay more.

At first, she thought it was only simple people being protective of their old fashioned little town, but it was more than that. The Sheriff was always speaking in whispers with the Mayor, and Irene could _swear_ she referred to the Deputy Sheriff as “Dad” at least once. The pawnbroker was always regarding her as if he was coming up with ways to eliminate her, and his wife pulled his arm like a leash, as if she could stop him. And how about the waitress that disappeared every full moon?

So many questions, so much time in her hands. She'd have to start collecting secrets again. For protection. And fun. She put up her practice across the hall from Dr. Hopper's, not as competition, but as a way to check who came in and out of his office, and maybe overhear relevant things. The Mayor was probably the most important one to have under her thumb – or the pawnbroker, but he always spoke to Dr. Hopper in a quiet voice that was impossible to overhear. That, and he looked happily married. Happily married men were so hard to conquer.

It was when Irene was thinking that maybe she should start small and work her way up that the Pawnbroker's son came to her office with a problem. A very difficult and uncomfortable problem he didn't want to discuss with a friend like Dr. Hopper. Irene was glad to tell him the issue he was facing was well into her field of expertise.

The next time Neal Cassidy came to her, he brought his wife, a petite blonde that caught her eye immediately. Delicate features shadowed by shame and frustration. This wasn't what she thought marriage would turn out to be, especially after the babies were born. They had both been ready for the proverbial happy ending. Instead, they were visiting a therapist twice a week to talk about their unsatisfying sex life.

Irene listened to their complaints making respectful remarks and looking sympathetic, all the while taking mental notes and observing the little wife attentively. She asked to be called Tink, whatever that was short for, and it was clear she was there reluctantly. Sharing their private life with a stranger had not been her idea. Regardless, she was outspoken and looked at her with challenging eyes.

Irene had always loved a challenge.

A few sessions in, she suggested they tried something less orthodox for their case.

To her surprise, it didn't take much to convince them. They already trusted her, and they were desperate – and the little thing was so very curious...

*

Neal looked even more nervous than the little thing when they knocked on her door.

“We've been talking about it,” he said, carefully. “And... do you really think this is necessary?”

“Helpful was the word I used,” Irene said, unfazed by his reluctance.

“Yes, we just-it seems a little extreme,” he insisted, rubbing his hands and glancing back at his wife, who had crossed her arms over her chest and was already blushing.

“Just think of this as a safe place for you to try something new, to express yourself,” Irene reassured him. Then her eyes focused on Tink and she dropped her tone to a low, sultry sound, and asked, “What do you think, Mrs. Cassidy?”

Tink's eyes glanced up, suddenly aware of Irene's stare. She looked ready to be devoured.

“I'm good if you're good,” she whispered quietly to her husband.

“I'm good if _you_ 're good,” he replied.

Irene almost started laughing. Husband and wife playing chicken, it was so adorable.

“Come in, then,” she said, and showed them into the bedroom attached to her office.

She made sure to keep anything remotely intimidating out of sight. Nothing but a regular bedroom, with a large bed, nightstands, dressers and an armchair to the side of the bed.

“You may sit, Mr. Cassidy,” she instructed.

Neal waited for his wife's nod before complying and Irene thought, not for the first time, that he would make for a wonderful slave. Not tonight, though.

Irene took the riding crop from one of the drawers and asked, “Do you mind if I hold this?” Neal started to protest, but she added, “I won't use it, of course. It's like a safety blanket for me, I suppose. Makes me feel secure.”

Again, he looked for Tink's eyes. She hesitated, but nodded.

“Thank you. Now, darling, stand between his legs.”

She moved slowly, in small steps, but did as she was told. When Neal reached for her hand, Irene could see her relax visibly.

“Good,” she said, taking a place right behind her. Even though they were roughly the same height, Irene wore tall heels and held herself in a way that made Tink look much smaller. “Now lets show your husband how pretty you are.”

There was a loud gulp, Irene wasn't sure from each one, but Tink let go of Neal's hand and started moving.

“Oh, no, my dear, arms down,” she said, smoothing her hands to the sides of her body and reaching for the buttons of her shirt herself. “Allow me.”

Irene could see the woman's fingers shaking, but Tink didn't fight her. She worked her way down her buttons and shed it off her body slowly, listening to the other woman as her breathing grew more shallow.

Tink startled when Irene gave her an order, even though Irene spoke softly as she said, “Look into his eyes, dear. Enjoy the way he's looking at you.”

Neal did look fascinated by her body as Irene stripped her down to a green set of bra and panties. Cotton, not lace, but it looked beautiful on her petite figure nonetheless.

“Doesn't she look beautiful, Neal?” Irene rasped, the tip of her fingers tracing their way up her arms.

“Green has always been your color,” Neal replied, his chest already heaving. “You look amazing.”

Tink gave him a timid smile.

Irene leaned into her ear. “What do you say to such a lovely compliment, my dear?”

Tink said, “Thank you.”

Irene emended her, “Thank you, _Sir_.”

The word made her shiver, but not because it made her nervous. When she spoke again, the title rolled out of her tongue with something that was starting to resemble arousal. “Thank you, Sir.”

Neal swallowed nothing in his mouth and stayed quiet. Irene answered, “Good girl,” in his place and felt a chill travel through the other woman's body.

Her fingers were quick to unhook her bra and discard it to the side.

“I think your husband likes your breasts, my dear,” she whispered, as Neal's eyes grew in size. “What does he like to do to them when you're alone? Does he kiss them?”

Tink started answering yes, but the word was cut short when Irene touched her nipples very gently, dragging a slow circle around them.

She nuzzled Tink's neck. “Is that a yes?”

“Yes,” Tink gasped.

“Does he like to bite them?”

“ _Yes_ ,” she answered, voice raising to a sweet falsetto when Irene flicked the tip of her nipples, before going back to drawing circles.

“Softly? Or does he bite you hard?”

Tink leaned back against her body, giving in to her touch. When it came, her answer was breathless, “Hard.”

Well, Mr. Cassidy was full of surprises, it seeme. Taking into consideration everything they had shared, Neal had always seemed to her like an exceedingly gentle lover. In fact, him treating her as if she were made of glass was one of her main complaints.

“Oh, that won't do,” Irene said, cupping her breasts, but still working her nipples with her thumbs. “Delicate skin such as yours needs to be teased. And you're probably much more sensitive now, aren't you, dear? Pregnancy can do that to you. Not that you're not lovely. In fact, I'd dare guess it's made you even more beautiful.”

Irene's hands increased pressure until they were holding her breasts in a gentle squeeze. Then, she let go and smoothed her flat stomach with the palms of her hands.

“And I'm sure your wife appreciates a little roughness, Mr. Cassidy,” she added, delightful to notice Neal turning red. “It can be quite fun. But a little teasing will take you a long way. And she has such a lovely body.” Irene felt the bumps of her hip bone and soon found her ass cheeks to close her hands around. “Smooth, and rather compact. But with enough interesting places to _squeeze_.”

Tink bulged, but Irene didn't let go of her, saying, “Of course, some places are so perfectly round and juicy that they just _demand_ a little roughness, don't they, my dear?”

When she let go, she could see the mark of her fingers in red and white.

Irene took a step back to appreciate her handiwork. “That will do for now. Kneel between his legs, and mind your posture, my dear. Push your shoulders back and give him a nice view of your breasts.”

Tink held on to his knees, afraid she might loose her balance. They'd have to work on that later, but Irene didn't call her out on it. There would be time to iron out those minor details.

“What should he call you, my dear?” Irene asked, going back to her dresser and opening another drawer.

“I'm sorry?” Tink asked.

“I'm sorry, _Miss Adler_.”

“Yes, I'm sorry? Miss Adler?”

“What should he call you, my dear? Will your name do, or do you want him to call you something special?”

The drawer was closed and Irene was already half-way to the chair when the answer came. “I'm not sure, Miss Adler.”

“Princess. Pet. His good girl,” she suggested, as if reciting a grocery list. “If you're feeling adventurous, _slut_ is always an option.”

That brought color to her cheeks. It was a pleasure to watch.

“My pretty fairy,” Neal said, making both women turn to him. It was his time to blush when he looked at their therapist. “I'd like to call her my pretty fairy. If that's alright.”

“You shouldn't ask me, Neal.”

“Right,” he said, looking down on Tink. His eyes glanced at her naked chest for a second before finding her eyes. “Sorry. May I-may I call you my pretty fairy?”

“You may,” she smiled. “Sir.”

“Wonderful, communication,” Irene said. “Now, my darling, which one should we put inside your wife's pretty mouth?”

She lowered the box in her hand to show a collection of gags. Tink couldn't see it from where she was kneeling, but Neal's eyes doubled in size, clearly intimidated by the large variety that was presented to him.

“I don't have them in green, sorry,” Irene said.

Neal tried to say “That's fine,” but only managed to mumble “That's-that's...”

Irene hoped he'd pick the bone shaped gag in black silicon for his pretty fairy. It would make her drool so beautifully. But he wasn't so adventurous and settled for a solid medium sized pink ball gag.

“Beautiful choice. Open wide, pretty fairy. Ah!” she said, lifting her chin with the tip of her riding crop when Tink lowered her head. She gasped, but didn't fight it. “Look at your Master as he does it, dear. There's no need for shame. You do enjoy this, don't you?”

“Yes, Miss Adler,” she answered, her face a bright shade of red.

“Being at his knees is a privilege, pretty fairy. Let him know how proud you are.”

For good measure, she kept the riding crop where it was as Neal leaned over to fasten the gag around her head. Tink fidgeted with her hands, but kept her eyes on his the whole time. Irene had to hand it to the two of them. Most people would have cracked up by now, but, be it out of nerves or arousal, they were keeping a straight face.

Neal's hand stroked her cheek as her teeth closed around the gag, comforting her even though she didn't look distressed. A little embarrassed, yes, but growing comfortable as they progressed. Then his hand slipped down her neck and towards her breast. Irene used the riding crop to give him a soft smack on the back of the hand and he pulled back with a startle.

“No touching,” she reminded him.

“What happened to me being _Sir_ and all of that?” he asked, upset, rubbing the back of his hand more out of shock than pain.

“You have to learn to be patient. She's giving her body for you to control in any way you want. You don't want to take that for granted, do you?”

Neal huffed. Clearly, if it was up to him, he'd ravish his pretty fairy right there on the floor and screw patience. But his wife wanted something new and, at the end of the day, he was very good at obeying her commands.

“Now, pretty fairy, to bed with you,” she said.

Neal helped her up and she crawled to the middle of Irene's queen sized bed, keeping her knees together, as if that would grant her some modesty. But that didn't last long, because Irene took a hold of her ankle and brought it closer to the edge of the bed, where she was swift to tie a rope around it.

When she tightened it, Tink emitted a faint protest. Out of shock, not pain, Irene knew how to tie a rope. Neal made a sudden move, as if ready to protest much more loudly, but Irene was quick to say, “Don't worry, dear. Your pretty fairy is in safe hands. This doesn't hurt, does it, love?”

Tink took a moment to think about it, but shook her head.

“Is it too tight?”

Another head shake.

Irene moved to the other ankle, saying, “See, love? She knows what to do if she wants me to stop. She can knock on the head board, or she can give me the sign. And you,” she turned to Neal, “should start trusting what your wife wants, rather than what you think she can handle.”

Neal's face turned red again. Men were so easy to shame and manipulate.

Irene finished tying her to the bed, arms spread above her head.

“This is a fairly simple knot, and a fairly simple position for playtime.”

The tip of her riding crop touched Tink's chin and made its way down her neck.

“All of her body spread open for you to play with. For you to use.”

She stopped her riding crop on top of her panties and threw mischievous look at Neal's crotch, where something he was trying to ignore was bulging his pants.

“And I think you'd love to do just that.”

Tink gasped as the tip of the riding crop massaged between her legs. Irene applied enough pressure for her to feel it, but it was far from being enough to satisfy her.

“But what is the fun in that?” she said. “Making her wait, driving her absolutely mad with want, that is far better, don't you agree?”

Neal's eyes were on his tiny wife, currently writhing on the bed, sweat shining on her forehead, the hair in her tight bun coming loose, her hips pushing against the riding crop, trying to prolong that fleeting sensation. He was fascinated.

“Make her work for it.” Irene sat on the bed and replaced the riding crop with two fingers, touching her even lighter than before. “You've been taking her body for granted, always ready to please her and do just what she asks for. You need to learn to read her.”

Unceremoniously, she pulled her panties down to her knees. Neal gasped, but Tink only sighed, a sound that was very similar to relief.

“We know that you are _very_ good at this, my dear,” Irene said, now dragging a red fingernail up and down her pussy. “Nobody is complaining about your skills. I'm sure you could bring your mouth over here and get your pretty fairy off in about a minute. Maybe less. She _is_ quite drenched.” She pushed a finger inside and out of her so fast Tink barely had time to moan. Irene sucked on her finger, just for the pleasure of making Neal stop breathing for a second. “Such a tasty fairy you have, Neal. What a waste it would be to finish her off in one minute.”

When Irene's breath hit her skin, Tink tried to push up to meet her mouth halfway, but she pushed back with a knowing giggle.

“Be perfectly still, pretty fairy. Or else we might just leave you here and have a cup of tea in the other room while you cool down.”

The threat was empty, but she stopped moving immediately, allowing Irene to go down between her legs at her own speed.

“You have to remember, this isn't just to please you, pretty fairy,” she said, knowing that the breath from her mouth was already enough to drive the other woman crazy. “This is for your Master's amusement. And he wants to play with you.” A little kiss on her mound made Tink moan and writhe. “He wants to make you wait. You should start begging for his mercy.”

Though, judging by the look on his face, Neal had stopped thinking a long time ago and Irene doubted he even remembered what the word mercy meant. Irene, however, did. She simply didn't feel very merciful at the moment, so she dipped her tongue into Tink's pussy and searched for her most sensitive spot to tease.

Short licks and a little scrape of teeth could take you a long way, and though Irene would love nothing more than to finish her off and send her husband home with a hard cock, there was also a wicked pleasure in lapping at her clitoris and feeling her rock her hips against her mouth, desperate for more than that momentary touch. She didn't care that her therapist was currently eating her out, or that she was making a spectacle of herself, or that Neal was looking at her attentively. She wanted an orgasm. Any embarrassment would be worth it.

When Tink finally started pleading “please” - though, through the gag, the sound was only a pathetic “ _pleesh, pleesh_!” - Irene still had enough cruelty in her to order, “Plead to your Master,” and completely remove herself from the other woman's body.

Tink took a moment to stared between her legs, as if the sight of her glistening sex was torture and she was ready to start begging her therapist again for her mouth, her fingers, _anything_ , so long as it pleasured her. But she was smart enough to collect herself and look at Neal with watery eyes.

“ _Pleesh_! _Pleesh, Mast'r, pleesh_!”

What a hapless, delightful sound that was.

Neal seemed ready to jump off his chair and fuck her brains out. But he still gave Irene a look, asking for permission. He _would_ make a delightful slave and Irene wondered if Tink shouldn't just conform to her role as a top and make use of her husband in any way she wanted. He sure looked fun enough.

Out loud, she said, “Come, dear. I think you've both earned it.”

As expected, Neal jumped off his chair and his pants were down before he even got to the bed. It was a miracle he didn't trip.

Irene thought of lecturing them both on the benefits of talking and how teasing his wife's ear while so powerfully thrusting inside her body would enhance the experience, but it was clear that none of them were listening to her anymore. Neal was taking her like an animal, for once not thinking of her porcelain skin or tiny frame, and Tink was clearly loving every bit of it, drool sliding her chin and cheeks as she moaned and rocked with his hips. It was quite a sight, maybe not as sophisticated as what she had in mind, but very amusing to watch and arousing in its own way.

Tink came first, within a few seconds, wailing loudly and pushing herself up to meet his body. Irene should talk to them later about asking permission, but for now, that would do. And she had a lovely voice. Neal followed, collapsing on top of her with pants and tremors, shouting out, “ _GodwomanIloveyou_!” and Irene wasn't sure he was confessing his undying love for his wife, or his deep gratitude to his therapist. Well, both ways were flattering, she supposed.

Since both seemed unwilling to move, she went around the bed and undid the knots that tied Tink down. She slowly curled her body around Neal's, looking very content.

“Now, my darlings, before we talk about the importance of aftercare and good communication once a scene like this is over,” she said, pulling a calendar out of a drawer, “can I mark you down for same time, next week?”

 

 


End file.
